by Dayna Quince
Luna gasped. “When?”
Callen threw his arms up in disbelief and aggravation. “I don't know. Maybe he's already gone. Or maybe the ship is still docked.” He looked out to the sea. “Ships sail at high tide, don't they?”
Luna followed his gaze. “Yes, but I'm not completely certain, considering the harbor is deep enough for ships to leave anytime, isn't it?”
Callen cursed again and started sprinting toward the stable.
“Wait!” Luna called after him.
“Save me your first dance!” he called back. He’d miss dinner, but he'd either be racing down to the harbor and collecting his brother, or he'd get there to find there was no ship at all. Either way he would be back in time.
Callen just couldn't let him go, not when he had a chance to stay, not when he should stay and be the husband that Nicolette deserved.
That Callen would make sure.
In a flash, Callen had a horse saddled, one of Weirick’s big gray hunters that could get him to the harbor as fast as possible. He vaulted into the saddle and kicked his heels, snapping the reins as the horse bolted out of the stables with Callen just barely hanging on.
The race to the harbor was a blur, but each bit of ground the horse ate with his hooves felt twice as long. Either time had slowed or the harbor was much farther than it used to be. Callen barely slowed as he maneuvered through the village, cart sellers and carriage drivers cursing him as he passed. Once the dock was in sight, he resumed his maniacal speed until he pulled the horse to a halt at the edge of the docks and leapt down from the saddle.
He tossed the reins to the harbormaster. “Where is Captain Marlowe’s ship?” he demanded.
The harbormaster went pale. “Just there, sir. She's already pulled anchor. It's too late if you mean to board her.”
Callen ran. The ship had already pulled away from the dock, but perhaps if he called out, he could still stop them. He sprinted down the dock, yelling. Crewmen on the deck took notice and they began to shout. One of them leaned over the edge.
“We cannot stop, sir. The wind ’as caught the sails.”
But they were still moving rather slow. Callen got to the edge of the dock where two fishermen were tying knots in a net, seated in their rowboat.
“A sovereign for each of you if you get me to that ship as bloody fast as your arms will move.”
They nodded at once, and Callen leaped into the rowboat and the two men began to pump their arms. One was much older than the other. They must've been father and son. Callen urged the father to move aside, took his place, and they doubled their speed, gaining on the ship.
The crewmen tossed down a rope ladder as the rowboat drew close, and Callen felt the first traces of victory. He might actually make it; he might get to his brother just in time and keep him on English soil.
He set down the oars as they reached the side of the ship and took hold of the rope ladder. He climbed up, collecting splinters and rope burns as he raced up and the crewmen helped pull him over the side.
“I need to speak to Mr. Denham, Theodore Denham, immediately,” he ordered. One of the crew rushed off as Callen caught his breath.
Theo appeared, utterly dumbfounded to see Callen.
“What the devil, Callen? What are you doing?”
“Sir Kirby,” Callen panted, “is alive.”
“Coombs is back?”
Callen nodded, his throat hoarse from his harsh breathing.
“But what about Judge Blackwood?” Callen could answer, but he just realized the blazing ship was still moving with them on it, away from England.
“We have to get off the ship,” he demanded.
The crewman who'd spoken to him before spoke up again. “We can't.”
“You can. Name the amount of money that will make you turn the ship around,” Callen returned.
Captain Marlowe appeared. “What's happening now?” he demanded of everyone, surprised to see Callen on board. “What's this? You're coming too?”
“No, I'm trying to get my brother and I off. His wife and my bride will be waiting for us.” Callen peered back over the edge, but the two fishermen were too far away to even yell for.
“We can't do that,” Captain Marlowe said. “We can't just stop the ship. We can try, but we've got a good wind and even if I close the sails, we’re in a swift current. This is a narrow inlet. You go out, you go in, but you don't turn around in the middle of it.”
Callen regained his breath. “What are you telling me? I'm proposing to the woman I love tonight at the ball that is starting very soon.”
Captain Marlowe shrugged. “Propose tomorrow,” he said.
Theo began to chuckle. “How much do you love her, Callen? Because I love Nicolette, and if there is even a slight chance I don't have to leave her behind, heartbroken as I left her, I'm going back. Are you coming with me?”
Callen nodded. And then in true Theo fashion, he walked to the side of the ship and climbed up onto the railing. He turned back with a grin.
“Theo, don't—”
Theo swan dived into the ocean and the crew applauded. Callen shook his head.
“Captain Marlowe, by chance, will you lower a rowboat?”
Captain Marlowe grinned and shook his head, flashing a gold tooth. “I can but it won't be nearly as romantic as telling your bride you leapt from the deck of the ship and swam back to shore for her.”
Damn it, he was right.
Maybe the first time ever, Callen did something as ridiculous as his brother and leapt from the deck of a moving ship into frigid dark water as the sun was setting.
Quite possibly to his death. At least that's what he thought as his body slammed into the water.
This didn't feel romantic at all.
He kicked to the surface, breaking free and gulping down air. He had to get his bearings and find which direction to swim, lest he swim farther out to sea. He heard Theo shout, and he looked over his shoulder.
Theo was some ways ahead in the direction of the shore. Callen took another breath and he began to swim.
Luna was dressed, fidgeting with the silk gloves that had been left as a gift on her bed. A gift from Violet to all the sisters, among the many other things they had managed to find in their rooms, including new dresses, new stockings, and boots. But Violet wouldn’t claim those gifts.
Luna couldn't eat a thing at dinner. And now she was standing in a ballroom, as the dancing was about to begin, with the dance card clutched in her fist. She couldn't help but feel like she'd be waiting here forever.
Callen might not return in time, but at least she wasn't suffering alone. Nic was with her, just as anxious and hoping that Callen would soon return with Theo.
“I cannot believe you married him,” she whispered to her sister.
Nic shrugged. “I have no regrets.”
“Really? You ought to.”
Nic looked far happier than Luna, and she couldn’t figure out why.
“How can you be smiling right now?”
“If there is a single chance he will return to me, I’ll dance naked across the room,” Nic said.
Luna scoffed. “I just hope you are aware of the kind of man you married. How long have you been—”
Nic grabbed her hand and squeezed, her gaze across the room, and her whole body vibrated like a tuning fork. She lit up from her eyes to her skin. The very air around her shimmered. Luna turned to see what held Nic in such thrall.
There Theo was. He strode across the room, every inch the gentleman in his black-and-white evening attire. His hair slicked back, his gaze unwaveringly on Nic. Nic let go of her hand and floated toward him, and it was then Luna snapped out of the spell those two had somehow cast over the entire room. She turned to find Callen right there behind her, smiling. He was also dressed in evening attire, his hair damp and styled. He winked at her.
“Did you save me your first dance?”
She held out her dance card to him. “I saved you all the dances,” she said, her
heart leaping into her throat and fluttering like a hummingbird that had found a flower with an endless supply of nectar.
Her heart beat so fast she might be vibrating. The strains of tuning instruments filled the room, and the first dance was announced. Luna didn't hear a word as he presented his arm and she took it. He led her to the dance floor. Luna expected them to line up on opposite sides of the rooms but couples paired together.
“Is this a waltz?”
“Yes,” he said, his gaze turning her knees to honey.
“Theo and I made a special request, and Weirick was very obliging as was his duchess.
“Indeed.” As Luna looked around, she saw all of her sisters paired on the dance floor, and even the duke and duchess seemed to feel the magic of the moment as they took their place among their guests.
The music began.
“Just follow my lead,” he said.
In between events of the house party, Violet had had the girls practice their dancing so they wouldn't feel quite so out of their element tonight. Luna would be forever grateful as she followed him in the movements, and they came easily to her as if she were floating or he carried her.
The room spun, everything outside the space between her and Callen turning into a blur of light and sound. He was her world. No, her steadying point, and she'd never felt so safe or secure in her life as she did now in his arms.
“Is this really happening?” she asked breathlessly.
“Did you think you were dreaming?”
“I'm afraid I am. But if so, I never want to wake up.”
“By the way, I happened to see something on our ride back here.” He drew them to the side of the ballroom, and they came to a stop. From inside his jacket, he pulled out a small green plant and held it out in his gloved palm.
“I don't know what made me look, but as we reached the castle and night had set in, I glanced down at the bluffs, and it was like stars lit up the ground. So, I reined in and collected a bunch for you.”
Luna gasped. “Is that Star herb?” She took the little plant and stared at it in wonder. Now that she had this piece, she would be able to identify others in the light of day without having to sneak out at night.
“But I thought it had to be at midnight. Why weren't they glowing before?”
“I don't know. But unless there are other herbs that glow, this is the one you were searching for that night?”
Luna nodded and held the herb to her heart. She stared up at Callen. “This is the most wonderful gift you could have ever given me,” she said.
“Is it? Would you give me a gift in return?”
She nodded excitedly.
The music was coming to an end, and Callen led her back onto the floor, but they did not begin to dance. The music closed with a flourish, and as everyone turned to face them, curious as to why two people were standing there in the middle of the dance floor, he went down on one knee before her. Luna could no longer breathe.
“Miss Lunette Marsden, will you do me the honor of becoming my countess and my wife?”
Luna felt her heart slow and then pause, and then it burst into a speed not possible for anybody to bear. She stared down at Callen, and the whole world tilted and then righted itself, and she never felt steadier on her own two feet as she did right then.
“Yes.”
Thank You
Thank you for reading The Secrets Of The Sixth Night! Please take a moment to leave a review of this book. I sincerely hope you enjoyed Luna and Callen’s love story.
We are now more than half way through this family saga with only three sisters left to go.
If you’ve read this far you already know that Nicolette and Theo are married! You may be wondering, dear reader, how and when this happened. Well, you’ll get to read their story next in Seven Lovely Sins. Turn the page to read an excerpt!
Excerpt
Seven Lovely Sins
Prologue
Selbourne Castle, June 20, 1825
Weirick, Violet, and Roderick sat in a circle around a fresh pot of tea as rain pelted the high windows of the Queen’s drawing room of Selbourne Castle. All the candles were snuffed, oil lamps turned down except for their one nearest them. The glow of the fire provided all other light, which was not insubstantial. Weirick could stand inside the hearth with his arms spread and still not touch walls.
On this stormy summer night, papers scattered the table before them, and they huddled together to make choices far more serious than Weirick originally thought. But as he looked down on a list of names his stomach tightened with worry. He glanced to his new wife, and he wondered what it was like to give away a daughter to another man. Her father had died some years ago, and in turn, it had been her brother-in-law to give her hand away. But one day they would have their own daughters. Weirick couldn't be sure any man would prove worthy enough of their hands.
“Lord Densmore is an obvious choice,” said Roderick, Weirick’s younger brother and newly reformed rake and alcoholic. “But his brother, Denham, I'm not sure. He's as bad as I was on my best nights.”
‘There is also that trouble with Judge Blackwood,” Weirick said. “Denham is a hothead, and he likes to let his mouth make decisions before his brain.”
“Then why invite him?” Violet asked. “We want men suitable for the sisters. We can't let them just marry anyone.”
“He's a second son,” Roderick answered. “He's reckless, but I know he does have some of his own financial holdings. He is smart. And to be honest, it is far more likely that one of the Marsdens marry a second son. But remember, nothing is certain. It's important that we focus on my courtship of Anne.”
“But if more than one of them marries, it's even better. Will he make a good husband?”
“I'll make sure he does,” Weirick said. And neither Violet nor Roderick questioned that Weirick could scare any man into improved behavior.
“Denham has reached his breaking point. I can take care of Judge Blackwood. But it's up to Denham to choose between life and death. This party might be the catalyst he needs. If he should choose to fall in love with a Marsden, I think he'll change his ways. They seem to have a way of drawing out the finer qualities in a man, don't you think Roderick?” Weirick focused on his brother. He looked better than he'd ever seen him after weeks of being ill, purging the liquor from his system, and fighting for his own life. All because of his love for Anne. A love that was not yet returned, and neither of them could be certain that it would be. But for his brother’s life Weirick was willing to try.
“So, we invite him?” Violet asked, her gaze flicking between Weirick and Roderick.
“I say yay,” Roderick said.
“I say yay,” Weirick said. “Every man should get a chance to change.”
Chapter 1
August 10, 1825 Selbourne Castle
The damp sea air permeated his neck cloth and sent a chill down his spine. The moon shined brightly, illuminating the hills and valleys of the sand. Theo stood next to his brother, watching the rowboat come in, his gut tightening the closer the boat came.
The shadow of a man cranked oars efficiently as the small boat rose up and down with the swells of the ocean.
Callen remained silent, an air of stern judgment around him, as usual. Even during clandestine meetings, he looked every inch the Earl of Densmore. Theo wished he would say something to cut the tension. His own voice felt like a foreign object in his throat. But Callen never spoke unless he was imparting some lecture. Theo preferred lectures to this strange silence, though he'd never tell his brother that. He certainly didn't want more lectures, but he hated to feel like his presence was something to be ignored, and yet he couldn't think of a damn thing to say to his brother right now.
His pride choked him.
The pressure in his chest made him feel as if he couldn't draw a full breath. He stared out at the boat, edging closer and closer, the future as it were, the future he didn't want but he had no control of. It was his own damn fault that
he was here pretending to attend a house party and court nine lovely and dreadfully poor sisters when his true purpose was escaping England and the hangman.
And though he was certain his brother loathed him, there Callen stood, ever the protector, the dutiful brother, guarding Theo's back as he’d promised their parents on their deathbed and ensuring he never saw the noose.
Even if Theo deserved it.
What was family worth if not for this moment?
Am I a criminal? Do I deserve to die?
No, he wanted to shout.
“Captain Marlowe is taking a great risk by meeting us like this,” his brother finally broke the silence.
“I know,” Theo said. “He wouldn't do it if he wasn’t fully aware. Maybe he does things like this all the time.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw his brother glare at him.
“Not everyone has a moral compass as skewed as yours.”
“Perhaps not everyone, but certainly quite a few.”
“This is no joke,” his brother said, his voice edged with scorn.
“Who is joking? Theo returned. “Leaving England, you think I take that lightly? I don't want to do this.”
“I don't want to do this, either. I have to because of you.”
Theo ground his teeth, his jaw aching. Bloody hell, did every conversation have to result in an argument? He exhaled loudly.
“Petulant whelp,” his brother muttered.
The rowboat glided onto the sand, and Captain Marlowe, a swarthy fellow of ambiguous origins—perhaps Spanish or maybe Mediterranean, Theo thought—leapt from the small dinghy. He approached them with a swagger only seen in seamen. They always walk as if the ship rolled under their feet. Would Theo carry the same gait just from crossing the sea? Probably not, the journey would not be long enough.
Only hours, maybe a day at most.